


Somebody, Know Me Too Well

by YouFuckinFudgeNutter



Category: Law & Order: SVU
Genre: Eventual Smut, F/M, Flirting, Fluff and Angst, Hispanic Character, Just Trying to Give Barba Love and Support, More In The Chapter Notes, Mutual Pining
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-30
Updated: 2020-11-30
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:20:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27794464
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YouFuckinFudgeNutter/pseuds/YouFuckinFudgeNutter
Summary: One Police Plaza takes the Cragen Situation as an opportunity to stick their noses deeper in the 16th precinct's business.They reestablish the presence of an on-call forensic psychiatrist and fill the position with someone of their choosing.Enter Dr. Jacinta De los Santos, who took the position to be of service on the city's most horrific cases - though it takes a minute for the others to recognize that.It's no surprise that she grows close to the only person to not push her aside, the best dressed ADA in Manhattan.
Relationships: Rafael Barba/Original Female Character(s), Rafael Barba/Reader
Comments: 7
Kudos: 29





	Somebody, Know Me Too Well

**Author's Note:**

> This really all started because I hate Alex Muñoz with a passion and wanted someone to hold Barba's hand through all of October Surprise and it's taken on a life of its own. 
> 
> This first chapter is just that, but now I can see myself taking it further. 
> 
> Thank you to @laneyg_thememequeen for all the support and patience as I split my focus between stories. You're simply the best.

Of course life in the SVU wasn’t going to be easy, but this?

_This was bullshit._

A childish thought to have, she knew, but her point remained. It was just so unfair - she wasn't expecting this particular struggle when she agreed to come work for the NYPD. 

She expected push back from her new colleagues, knew that there’d be a certain level of animosity over her coming into the precinct - at least until she had proven herself. The cold shoulder had thawed slightly after her advice resulted in a lead the first time, but remained ever persistent. Lieutenant Munch had warmed to her the most, to the surprise of everyone else. While he’d often needle her, the skeptic seemed to be able to recognize the valuable perspective she could provide. When asked he’d explained his experience working with a previous forensic psychiatrist, Dr. Huang. The detectives under his command followed suit - even if it took far longer for them to treat her in any way that could be considered friendly.

It was understandable, given the circumstances of her appointment. After Captain Cragen was suspended, One PP had seen it as a chance to make a powermove - providing funding to reestablish a house psychiatrist and filling the new position with a psyche consultant of their choosing. The only reason she was there was because they wanted to send a message - but that had nothing to do with why she took the job. She wanted to help, so when the opportunity presented itself to work on some of the most sensitive cases in New York - there was no turning it down. That drive was something she hoped was apparent to the rest of the unit. 

There was no denying that these were the most delicate cases in the city, the darkest and most depraved crimes with victims that needed more help than she could provide alone. She knew that coming to work here would be simultaneously the most difficult and fulfilling thing she’s ever done. The cases were haunting, forcing her to detach herself to a certain degree when she was advising interrogations. Her guard was quick to come down when it was time to interview victims of course, her bleeding heart impossible to hide as she tried desperately to be of some help. Women, children, men - all of them in the darkest times of their lives.

She knew that nothing about this job would be easy, but she knew it would all be worth it. 

What she hadn’t anticipated - the Cubano ADA in the bespoke suit. 

_Dios_ \- it was like the world had it out for her. There was no other explanation for the man’s effect on her. She met him on that first real day in the precinct, while everyone had been trying to ice her out - refusing her help on the littlest of things, rushing out into the field where she couldn’t yet follow. It had taken its toll on her after 14 hours and she’d taken to muttering her observations to herself as she people watched everyone coming in and out, idling outside of the interrogation viewing windows to watch the detectives at work. 

Then in strolled _Rafael Barba_ \- exuding confidence, demanding to be brought up to speed on the current case of focus. He was treated better than her, but only marginally - everyone speaking to him with something of an edge. Detective Amaro was particularly antagonistic, which had her perked up - having long since dropped the pretense that she wasn’t trying to figure each of them out. She was leaning back against a desk - blatantly observing them interact with one another, while Det. Benson acted as an intermediary, when the man had finally looked about the room. 

The second his green eyes had locked on hers, it was like every nerve in her body had come alive - extremely unfortunate given the circumstance. Struck dumb for a moment, she simply met his gaze as he’d swaggered into her space. An almost friendly smirk quirking his lips, holding out a broad palmed hand as he introduced himself. 

“ADA Rafael Barba, and you are?”

The subtle lilt to his words as he said his name sent warmth licking up her spine, something she forced herself to ignore even as she pressed her palm to his.

“Dr. Jacinta De los Santos, pleasure to meet you.”

“De los Santos? ¿Eres Dominicana?”

He seemed so pleasantly surprised, a glimmer of something resembling pride in his eyes as he leaned back to take her in. It was so captivating, her mind connecting dots absently even if it was slightly derailed by the way he squeezed her hand warmly. 

“Mexicana. _Barba_ \- eres Cubano?”

“Is it that obvious?”

His smile is so charming, even if his eyes are still somewhat guarded as he drops his hands to slide them into his pockets. Also fascinating, the way he withdraws like he’s expecting judgement or disbelief. 

“Only to someone who knows how to look.”

“And you’d know exactly how, _Dr. De los Santos?”_

It was so _unfair_ \- the way he said her name with lilting words, the way it made her insides melt and churn with liquid heat. Straightening up, she cleared her throat in an attempt to clear her mind.

“With how hard I worked on my degree, I’d hope so.”

“So would I. I imagine we’ll be working together often, your insights would no doubt prove useful in court.”

She’d perked up so fast, it was almost embarrassing even if the attorney had sent her an understanding look. After that, Barba put her to work the most. He’d have her stand outside of interrogations with him, would question her about her observations of perps, victims, and witnesses alike. It was painfully endearing, how adamant he was about involving her. It didn’t take long for something of a bond to form, at least on her side. Her fondness was something she had to rationalize away almost daily.

She was younger, newer to the unit than he was and he seemed to take that as incentive to take her under his wing. He let her help - _more than reluctant concession_ \- and that was all she wanted. She never felt like he was against her, even when they were debating perspective on a case or approach in court. He respected her opinion, always taking it into consideration to some degree when going forward with cases - especially when she pressed the issue. She was _trained_ to follow the thought patterns of others - it was glaringly obvious that he was doing his best, even if the others refused to see it. 

There were a million reasons for her little crush on the older man. The least of which was the effect his presence had on her physically, though there was no denying _that_. It would be impossible - downright unhealthy - to be in that much denial. It was easier to simply accept the way her mind had to reboot everytime he walked close enough for her to catch the scent of his cologne or when he made himself comfortable while they went over cases together - losing the tailored jackets to roll his sleeves up, flashing strong forearms as he braced himself for a long night. 

The benefit of being a psychiatrist was the ability to compartmentalize. Even if the box labeled _‘El Abogado’_ grew bigger everyday, it was _contained -_ which is what mattered at the end of the day. It honestly became easier to deal with once the detectives warmed up to her. She found herself splitting her time equally, spending the beginning of investigations with whoever caught her first and then spending the rest of the time with Barba as he took them to court. Which was its own kind of hell, in all honesty. The courtroom was where Rafael _thrived_ \- strutting around, making impassioned arguments as he fought so adamantly for the win. 

The attorney would turn to her in court, would lean into her space to get her thoughts on proceedings. Something that became difficult with his voice in her ear. When verdicts came in, she always made sure to be sitting directly behind him when she could. Barba won more than he lost - and when a guilty verdict was handed down, he’d turn to her with such a quiet pride that she couldn’t help herself from reaching out to grasp his shoulder as she fought not to beam with too much satisfaction. The verdicts that went south - those always hit them the hardest and she tried to be there even as he retreated into himself. She wouldn’t reach for him then, would simply stand by him as he offered words of comfort to the families. 

The first time he’d asked her out for a drink after a verdict, she hadn’t said anything - simply gathering her things before waiting at the door for him to lead the way out. It became something of a habit after that, to spend those moments together outside of work. Which helped _nothing_ as she got to know him better. Hearing about his upbringing in the Bronx, his relationship with his mami and abuela, how he worked so hard to make it out and get into Harvard. It was easy to open up to him in those moments - telling him about her life in Queens, about being raised by her abuela, and how they both worked so hard to get her into Princeton.

It fostered a closer relationship between them, which tested her restraint on a completely different level. Once they’d reached a rapport beyond the professional, Rafael’s guard lowered whenever they were together without the pressure of a case breathing down their necks. He sought her out when he dropped into the precinct to make friendly conversation when he could, stood closer to her when they spoke, and was prone to touching her casually.

He’d brush his hand against her back as they walked together, plant his palm lightly on her lower back as they walked into rooms, and would squeeze her shoulder fondly when she met him with a piping hot cup of coffee on the steps of One Police Plaza. As much as she tried to keep herself in check, she returned each touch with one of her own almost absentmindedly. She would find herself fixing his suit before court, dragging her hand down his arm as she asked him about his day before they settled in to talk over cases, she’d lean into his touch when it seemed he’d pull away to prolong the contact.

His apparent attachment to her also did little to nothing to quell her attraction. When she forced herself to view it objectively, it was easy to understand his behavior. Rafael was the first to take her seriously, the first to treat her as a colleague of value - it stood to reason that he’d find himself feeling possessive as the others came around. Though he seemed particularly aggravated when Detective Amaro sought her help, almost always inserting himself in their conversations when he was present. That could stem from their own antagonistic relationship, but there was no denying her presence contributed to the pointed comments they exchanged in their shared language. 

She was capable of recognizing the way a baser part of her preened under the attention, even if the professional part of her was apprehensive. The ground she’s gained with the unit was still precarious at best, she couldn’t afford to lose an inch when each was so hard won. SVU had a very tight knit dynamic and she knew that once she was in - she’d be in for life with these people, but she was still too much of an outfielder for them to accept her into the fold. Her defence of Barba was already a point of contention, if they thought she worked _for_ him rather than _with_ him - it would cause them to withdraw from her help.

-

It all changed with William Lewis. 

She did everything she could, but there was only so much she could contribute when it was so apparent that Lewis was a vicious psychopath capable of charming others enough to blend in without truly hiding, with a tendency to fixate on women he believes need to be brought down - especially when they challenged him. When his original case went south, it was a major blow. Everyone was able to recognize the shift in the air, even if Benson’s disappearance went unnoticed for an abnormal length of time. It was all hands on deck when Olivia was officially declared missing, there was no time for animosity when it was a race against the clock.

The subsequent manhunt was intense, everyone on edge - she was ever present, even if she could only contribute theories on the state of things. The others had recognized the effort, noted the solidarity and it had shifted her status from outsider to a full blown member of the Special Victims Unit. She could understand their reasoning, the shared trauma among them creating a bond as they tried to support Detective Benson in the aftermath. 

It’s surreal for a number of reasons and it takes her weeks to fully dissect them as she settles into a newfound dynamic within the unit. The strangest part is that her relationship with the others seems more amicable than theirs with Rafael, who she makes it something of a point to remain closest to. Olivia is more trusting in his abilities, though still vaguely questioning of his character. While Rollins recognizes his prowess in court, she shows open disdain for his attitude. Amaro is as confrontational as ever, although Munch and Tutuola are more than content to put their trust in the counselor’s legal skills. 

She refuses to lose what tentative friendship she’s established with Barba. If anything, the bond that’s formed with the unit has led to her being more outspoken in Rafael’s defense. The ground was steady beneath her feet and it helped her stand strong when the others thought the ADA wasn’t doing enough. It grated on her nerves even if she could sympathize with their frustrations. They refused to acknowledge how complicated the system was and how Barba was working it masterfully to get so much as an indictment most of the time. 

When the detectives drag in Eddie Garcia, she finds herself straddling a very fine line. 

She’s there through virtue of her position when Eddie’s brought in, the detective’s having fallen into the habit of signalling her when they wanted her to stand outside interrogation to observe. It was perplexing to say the least, watching the way the man shifted - the way he tried to appeal to the detectives as if he knew exactly how to downplay the situation, the way he seemed to falter meekly when it didn't work. It seemed as if he knew what he was doing right up until a certain point, floundering when the script ran out. 

Before she could form any other opinions, Barba had shown up looking tense - hands in his pockets as he questioned her about the case. The realization that he had a personal interest was shocking, setting her on edge as she worked to keep herself objective. Something that became more and more difficult as the case began to grow and the extent of Rafael’s entanglement slowly came to light. 

In the beginning, she bit her tongue - trying to maintain some decorum as she provided assistance. There was a limit, however, when Rafael was putting so much at risk and the unit was so callous. Det. Amaro in particular felt the need to say something on the matter whenever the opportunity presented itself. Which would have been understandable, had he not made it so personal. Nick seemed to find some solidarity in their similar heritage, something she did nothing to discourage, but the way he talked about the attorney made her snippy. Even if she could see what he meant, to a certain degree.

The issue was that she could sympathize with Rafael, for reasons beyond their friendship. She knew what it was like to make it out of the neighborhood, only for it to feel like you’d given up your place in it for daring to leave. She knew what it was like to have people talk about your success like it had come at a cost to them, like you’d forgotten your roots for the sake of an ivy league education. It had been a bigger issue when she was younger, but there was no denying the way it still made her hackles rise when people mispronounced her name or acted surprised when she introduced herself with her title. 

So, when the detectives showed the ADA messages that Rollins had exchanged with his childhood friend - she was standing right next to him. Wincing at the incriminating photos, she couldn’t quite quell the look she shoots Amaro at his barbed comments. She’s never seen Rafael shaken like this, so confused - so unwilling to accept what’s been presented to him. It’s difficult to hold against him and when he leaves the room, she doesn’t hesitate to follow him into the elevator. 

“Have anything else to _share_ , Doctor?”

It is the most derisive he’s ever been in addressing her, and she shoots him a look before calmly moving past it - ignoring the way his brow creases in silent contrition.

“I know this is hard for you, Rafael. I just wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“My oldest friends in the world are the center of an investigation that keeps getting _bigger_ the more we dig.”

“That would cause anyone to feel conflicted.”

He simply gives her a look, brow raised expectantly as the number of the doors count down.

“Best to tread carefully, tú sabes?”

Sending him one last look, trying to convey her understanding, she steps out as the doors open on the ground floor. 

-

When Rafael reveals that he spoke to Muñoz, she is not surprised in the least. The entire ordeal is taking a toll on him and she can’t blame him for trying to proserve old ties. What does surprise her is after, when he pulls her aside to speak to her privately. 

“I wanted to apologize for before, you were concerned for me and I shouldn’t have spoken to you that way.”

“It’s understandable, this is a tough case for you - no hard feelings.”

“Mí culpa, Cinta.”

She ignores the shivers that want to break out across her skin at the sincerity in his voice and the way his lips form the affectionate nickname he’d given her.

“ _Rafa, estamos bien._ Truly, I understand. This is all hitting too close to home, you’re allowed to be upset.”

“Not according to the DA, he’s still pushing for me to stay on the case despite everything.”

“He’s testing you - wants to see if you’re capable of remaining impartial, though I seriously doubt they’ll make you take the case to court.”

The man gives her a look of mild disbelief, though he seems like he’d love nothing more than to accept her assessment as fact.

“You think so? He seems particularly adamant - he’s making me attend an event Alex is set to speak at to keep him in the loop.”

“If you stand as the prosecutor in this case, it leaves a vulnerability for the defence to manipulate that a jury might fall for. There is no way the DA lets that happen.”

“You mean my friendship with Alex.”

“You two have a history that goes too far back, the defence would spin that to make it look personal and a jury might buy it. The DA is just trying to see how you handle the situation.”

He looks thoughtful as he takes her words into consideration, but he remains to be fully convinced.

“I wouldn’t say I’m handling it ideally at the moment.”

“You’re doing the best you can - you aren’t standing in the way of the investigation and you’re trying to do right by your friends.”

“I’m letting my personal relationships cloud my judgement.”

“You’re remaining far more impartial than I expected - nothing you’ve done has impeded the case. You’re letting the detectives do their jobs, you’re not trying to hide anything they find, and you’re reporting it all to the DA - there isn’t much else that you can do.”

“I just don’t know how I’m gonna be able to walk into that benefit and pretend that everything’s fine. It’s weeks until the election and we’re building a case that can tear it all down.”

“We are building a case based on the evidence that comes to light, if that damages his political standing - that’s on him.”

“That’s not how people are going to see it.”

“It doesn’t matter how people see it, what matters is that we do our jobs - it’s not your fault that Muñoz has gotten himself here.”

Rafael still looks tense, hands in his pockets with his brow furrowed - but he seems calmer than when they first began talking. For a moment, he seems to consider her before clearing his throat pointedly.

“Would you consider coming with me? As a friend - I already can’t stand these things and I can’t imagine that it’ll be any better in this case.”

“Of course. Name the time and place.”

-

Which is how she finds herself on the way to some political benefit, sitting in the backseat of a town car on it’s way to pick Rafael up from his office. He’d sent it to pick her up from her apartment, apologizing that he’d need to come straight from the office. She’d brushed it off, reassuring him that she was simply happy to be there to support him. When the cab pulls onto the block the DA’s office is on, she can’t help herself - she fusses over the way her dress lays over her legs, fixing the way her hair falls over her shoulders in the reflection of the window. As the car rolls to a stop, she forces herself to relax into the seat - doing everything she can to radiate nonchalance. 

When the door furthest from her opens, her heart stops for a moment as Rafael gets in - dressed to the nines in a tuxedo. It’s strange not to see him alive with color, but there is appeal in such a classic look. She forces herself to ignore that as she gives him a smile in greeting - a thrill dancing down her spine when he does a double take himself. At work, she tends to stick to high-waisted slacks and loose-fitting button ups with her hair pulled back, a look meant to make herself seem more approachable and non-threatening. Tonight however, she has a reason to dress more to her personal tastes.

She’s in a backless red number that flows beautifully all the way down to where simple pumps rest on her feet. Her hair is falling over her shoulders in waves, obscuring the straps tied behind her neck holding the dress up. It is elegant in its simplicity, stunning in its vibrancy, and offset by gold jewelry wrapped around her neck and fingers - catching the low light from the car window. 

“I’d say you clean up nice, Counselor, but I can’t be sure you don’t wear that to the gym.”

Her little joke seems to shake Rafael out of whatever daze he’d fallen into at the sight of her.

“I’m flattered you think I have time to make it to the gym. You look - beautiful, Cinta.”

Her smile turns slightly bashful, words of gratitude on the tip of her tongue only to get tied up when Rafael leans into her space - lips landing on her cheek, warm and fleeting. Breath hitching, she returns the gesture just before he pulls away. The back of the car suddenly seems too warm, her lips buzzing as she tries to gather her frazzled thoughts.

“Thank you, Rafa. How are you holding up?”

“Are you asking as a doctor or a friend?”

“Whichever you need, though mostly as a friend.”

“I’m doing - about as well as can be expected. Thank you for agreeing to this, by the way.”

“I’m always here to help - though I’m honestly grateful for a reason to dress up.”

“I can see that, I’m more than happy to be of service.”

“So - what can I expect going into this?”

“The usual - empty small talk, fake laughter, terrible food. Saving grace is the open bar.”

“Well, at least we have that.”

They fall into a companionable silence, though there is an undercurrent as Rafael stews in his own thoughts. His leg starts to bounce and she reaches out without thinking twice. She doesn’t grab him, but her fingers resting lighting on his knee is enough to bring him out of his head. Turning to her with an apology on his lips, he finds her already looking at him with concern in her eyes. Heaving a sigh, he sits back - trying to decide how to approach the elephant in the car.

“Alex and his wife, Yelena, are going to be there tonight.”

“That won’t be easy, given what we know.”

The laugh he lets out is more scoff than anything else, the look he gives her incredulous. His jaw twitches and her hand shifts to grasp his knee.

“Is there more to it than that, Rafael?”

“I’ve spoken to both of them since this whole mess started, they think it’s personal.”

“I’m not surprised, though it goes a little deeper, doesn’t it?”

He lets out a long breath through his nose, bracing himself before he turns his head to face her - voice dipping low.

“When we were younger, Yelena and I were together. I went away to school and came back for Christmas to the two of them _much closer_ than when I left. We broke up when I found them lingering beneath the mistletoe.”

Doing her level best to repress the rage that flared in her chest at the thought of someone hurting Rafael so deeply, she made sure to keep her voice carefully casual.

“Ah, let me guess - Muñoz likes to throw that around?”

“What do you mean?”

She sends him a knowing look, brows raised as he continues to look at her - face controlled, though his confusion is clear.

“It’s a pretty basic tactic - you confront him, he turns it around on you. Suddenly, it’s about whether or not you’ve gotten over how they hurt you.”

“Elaborate.”

It’s his court prep voice, clipped and expectant, though she knows better than to take that personally at this point.

“It’s his way of deflecting - he gets defensive, so he tries to undermine your standing. Turn the tables, make it all personal by making you seem like you can’t move on even when he knows he’s in the wrong. It’s all about shifting perspective.”

Rafael falls silent for a long moment, falling back into his seat as he stares ahead in realization.

“They both brought it up - when I talked to Alex, when Yelena showed up at my office - they made sure to bring it up.”

“And now _you’re_ questioning how much you’ve let the past guide your judgement.”

“Is it that obvious?

“Only to someone who knows how to look.”

He gives her a genuine smile at that, though it’s nowhere near as bright as she’d like it to be. 

“Is this why you asked me to come? Need some arm candy to make a point?”

The way he startles would be funny if it didn’t make it perfectly clear that he was off his game, no snappy reply on the tip of his tongue.

“Of course not! I’d never -”

“Rafa - _Rafa!_ I’m only joking, I know you’d never do that without asking.”

The relief comes off him in waves, his own hand reaching to squeeze hers where it still rests on his knee.

“I would never ask that of you.”

“What - you don’t think it would work?”

The playfulness in her voice is more apparent now and Rafael doesn’t hesitate to match it, grateful for the way it diffuses the tension. Though he’s completely serious even as he returns her smile.

“Oh, I’m sure it would. Face like yours with a brain to back it up? Everyone in the room is going to look at you twice, especially in a dress like that.”

“Don’t you know how to make a girl feel special. By all means, feel free to flaunt that you have the best date there. At the very least it will dissuade the oh-so-charming men of New York’s political scene from asking for my ‘card’.”

“Not interested in working the room? Maybe networking while we’re there?”

“In a room full of stuffy old white men? No manches, I’m already showing up with the one man who’d ever have a shot.”

In a bold move, she gives him her most charming smile as she flips her hand beneath his - holding his hand as the car rolls to a stop. He startles when the car is put in park, catching her gaze as the driver steps out to pull his door open. She doesn't let go as he steps out of the car, simply uses her hold to steady herself as she follows him. 

Like a true gentleman, he makes sure her dress has cleared the door before shutting it - shaking the driver's hand before turning his attention back to her. He gives her hand a questioning squeeze, which she returns before shifting her hold to lace their fingers together. When Rafael gives her a grateful smile, she finds herself melting as she steps closer to his side. Reaching up, she grasps his chin to swipe her thumb against his cheek - making sure to linger long enough for anyone close to see. 

“ _Lipstick_ , I didn’t think you’d want people thinking I’m that kinda girl.”

Rafael looks torn between being impressed and shocked, saved from forming a reply as someone calls for his attention.

\- 

There was something completely intoxicating about hanging off of Rafael Barba’s arm. It had her getting a little lost, as she smiled at people Rafael introduced her to as his date. Her head was on its way up into the clouds and she did everything short of pinch herself to bring herself back down to the ground. The hardest part of the night had yet to come, she needed to be on her A-game when it did. 

She could see him, making the rounds from across the room. The man worked the room with the same smile for everyone, leaning into people’s space to force eye contact. There remained a lingering insecurity about his roots that fueled his overcompensation, though he tried his best to conceal it. Alex Muñoz was a man who chose to stay in a little pond until he’d grown big enough to venture out into deeper waters. He was making major political moves while also maintaining his Man of The People image - a pointed effort to remind the community he came from of all he’d done for them while also reminding everyone else that a vote for him was a vote for the progessive. An extremely well thought out strategy in a state like New York. 

They circulated absently, Rafael only really stopping to speak to a handful of people and exchanging short pleasantries with anyone who made it a point to catch his attention. His smile was charming as ever, the way he introduced her enthusiastic and filled with a quiet pride so reminiscent of when he wins in court that it ties her insides in knots. But it was obvious that he hardly wanted to be there, with the way he was making a subtle b-line for the bar. Halfway there, a voice calls out that has his smile dimming into more of a grimace.

“Rafael! I thought you were allergic to these political shindigs?”

It has the hairs on the back of her neck standing on end, has her standing taller as they turn to greet Alejandro Muñoz. He’s walking over, beautiful woman on his arm, his hand outstretched to Rafael companionably. The handshake itself is tense, their arms jostling roughly before they quickly detach. It all sits uneasily with her and she finds herself leaning into the ADA’s side, hands wrapping around his bicep as she hugs it to her chest in a not-so-subtle show of affection. 

“Ay, Rafi - who’s this beautiful woman you’ve dragged to this schmoozefest?” 

It was interesting how Muñoz tries to seem personable by downplaying an event that is crucial to his campaign trail. Rafael bends his arm, catching one of her hands in his elbow and her other squeezes his arm reassuringly - thumb pointedly stroking the fabric of his suit.

“Bold to assume I could make her do anything. Jacinta - Alejandro y Yelena Muñoz. Alex, Yelena - this is Dr. Jacinta De los Santos.”

The couple makes a show of being impressed. In any other context, she might have simply brushed it off but right then it makes her want to burst. The feeling is mildly expected, though its intensity catches her slightly off guard, and she fixes her smile in place to keep the annoyance from bubbling over. 

“Tell me, Doctor, how does a woman like you wind up here with our Rafi?”

Anyone picking up the conversation from nearby would only hear playful teasing between old friends, but she could pick up on the way the words were just a little too pointed. It makes her bold and spiteful, so she turns to Rafael with all the affection she’s kept poorly concealed until then as she clings to his arm.

“Oh, all he had to do was ask.”

Rafael turns to her with a pleased smile, his shoulders losing some of their tension while his chest puffs up as his confidence rebounds.

“Cinta hereis a _saint_ , she agreed to come just to keep me company.”

“I’m the one coming out on top, _really_.”

She’s sure to send them a coy smile, making sure the implication lands before she redirects the conversation. 

“Rafa’s told me so much about you - childhood friends, no?”

“We go way back, all the way to the barrio. You should have seen Rafi way back then, when he was just a boy from the Bronx - far cry from the Manhattan big shot he is now.”

“Oh, I’m sure he was adorable - though time has certainly been kind to him.”

Turning her attention back to Rafael, she lays it on thick as she smiles at him - pointedly brushing her lips to his cheek, though she hopes it comes off as playful. 

“I had a big mouth and a bigger attitude, you probably wouldn’t have looked at me twice.”

“Claro que lo habría - I don’t know if you’ve grown _into_ the attitude or if it’s grown _with_ you, but it would have gotten my attention back in Queens just as much as it did here.”

It’s too honest and she can feel her hold on her feelings slipping more with each passing second. The way that Rafael looks at her is doing nothing to help her regain control, his eyes soft with a little smile that makes her train of thought go right off the tracks. It sends her heart racing, the possibility that he could look so happy that she’d give him attention. She’s brought out of it by a softer voice, one that seems just as casually barbed as her husband’s.

“Queens? Here I thought you were a Manhattan girl! You landed a _good_ one, Rafael.”

It sounds too surprised, the disbelief in her interest making her hackles rise. Rafael suddenly pulls his arm out of her hold, only to slip it around her waist. Not missing a beat, she turns into his side - one hand going up to rest on his lapel possessively. A shiver runs down her spine as his jacket sleeve brushes her exposed back as his hand lands warmly on her hip.

“I’m more than aware, Yelena. If you’ll excuse us, I promised my date a drink.”

She has just enough brain cells left to smile while they exchange empty pleasantries as they part. It’s a relief to walk away from the other couple, her mind fully in the gutter by the time Rafael slides his hand back to rest lightly on her bare skin as he guides her toward the bar. His touch burns in the best way and she has to lean against the bar when they reach it as her knees go too weak. Rafael leans next to her and she sways into his space before she can stop herself. 

“I would say that went well but I am honestly still unraveling exactly what just happened.”

He signals the bartender, ordering for the both of them when the man comes over. She takes a moment to try and gather herself, trying to remember that all of this was meant to be a favor. 

“What just happened was enough to make _my_ head spin, you pulled us away at just the right moment. I was about to break out the big guns any second.”

Picking up the whiskey placed by her elbow, she attempts to brush the little flutter in her stomach aside. So what if he knows her order? It’s not that difficult to pick up for an observant man such as himself and they drank together at the bar often enough. It didn’t mean anything special. 

“The big guns? And here I thought you were going above and beyond with that performance.”

The teasing is common ground, something they often fall into. But the new context throws her a bit, they’ve ventured into a strange place and it makes it harder to find her footing. This is a moment purely between two people who’ve grown close enough to be playful - no hint of two colleagues attempting to keep their heads above the tide. She still manages to form a response, feigning confidence as she tries to sort her thoughts. 

“You thought that was good? That was nothing.”

“Oh really? What exactly _does_ your best look like, Cinta?”

If asked, she’d claim the whiskey made her bold. The truth would be far more complex, with the way the night has twisted her head all around. The opportunity was too good to let pass by, so she finds herself taking a fortifying sip before placing the glass back on the bar. Heat spreads through her belly, her heart beating wildly though she does her best to keep her smile teasing. She lets her body fall into his lightly, her smile growing at the way his hand immediately rises to her back - fingertips grazing her skin ever so slightly.

Her hands go to his lapels, one palm smoothing up to go over his broad shoulders. She lets her fingers find the nape of his neck as she arches her back lightly to close the distance between them completely. His hand is now pressed flat to the small of her back, his eyes hooded as he waits for her next move. Going up onto her toes, her breath hitches at the feel of him dragging against her as she places her lips by his ear - letting them graze his skin as she speaks low enough not to be overheard. 

“My _best_ makes it clear _I want you,_ _papi_.”

The slight breathlessness in her voice catches her off guard, though the sharp inhale Rafael takes in sends goose bumps over every inch of her. She pulls back to meet his eyes, forcing herself to keep her breathing in check at the way his pupils have blown and his jaw has tightened. It’s as if her higher thinking has gone completely offline, because before she can think not to - her hand finds itself on his jaw to trace the tense line. 

Just as Rafael’s other hand lands on her back, a vibration startles them both from where their chests are still pressed together. Just like that - the spell is broken. Pulling away from Rafael is harder than she ever imagined it would be and it's as if cold water has been dumped over her head as he immediately turns his attention away from her to reach into his jacket to pull out his cellphone. It’s the most distance they’ve placed between them all night, which she uses to bring herself back down to earth. Knocking back the rest of her whiskey, she braces herself as she turns back to the ADA like she hadn’t been two seconds from jumping his bones in a room full of witnesses. 

There was no preparing herself for the look on his face though.

He just looked so _hurt_ , his brows drawn together in disgusted confusion and his jaw dropped in shock. It sends her on full alert, waiting anxiously to see if he would share unprompted as he so often did when they were working. He doesn’t, simply continuing to scroll through whatever has him so dumbfounded. When his face begins to tighten in anger, she steps back into his space to reach for the hand holding his phone - fingers hesitantly brushing the back of his hand, unsure how her request would be received. 

Her touch seems to shake him, with the way he blinks at her like he’d forgotten she was there completely. Saying nothing, he let the phone slip into her palm as he turned back to the bar to signal the bartender. On his screen is a teenage girl in too little clothing, so she knows that work has come calling. Exiting out of the image, she can see that it’s attached to an email from Benson. Eyes skimming the text, her shoulders tighten as she reads Muñoz name and the phrase _15-year-old minor._ Rafael has knocked back his scotch and she stops him before he can order another, slipping his phone back into his jacket for him as he turns back to her. 

“Think about what you do next very carefully, _me entiendes,_ Rafael?”

She fuses with his suit, straightening his jacket as if they were about to walk into court together - reaching up to wipe the dainty ruby smudges she left on him. 

“I risked my entire career to help him, Cinta, _y esto es lo que hace?”_

It sparks an anger in her own chest - the way his voice pitches low, his accent growing thick with his painful incomprehension as he looks to her for answers she doesn’t have. 

“Two choices - either we make a quiet exit right now or you pull Muñoz aside to say whatever you need to say and I go call a car to wait for you. Which is it gonna be, Rafa?”

The support she so explicitly displays has his brow relaxing minutely, though it remains drawn as he weighs his options.

“Would you call the car around? I need -”

His sentence trails off as she quickly invades his space again to press a kiss to his cheek - speaking lowly as she bumps her nose to his cheekbone softly. 

“I’ll be right out front. Be careful, papi.”

Pulling back completely, mentally berating herself for her slip of the tongue, she steps away to make her way to the exit. A quick look over her shoulder is all she allows herself, noting the way Rafael lingers at the bar before making his way across the room. 

-

The night has grown cold and the brisk air nips at her exposed skin as she waits for the car to pull up. Fiddling with the clasp of her clutch, she forces herself to take deep breaths as the minutes tick by. She regrets only bringing a purse, with only enough cash to tip the coat check girl who’d been watching it for the short time they were there. Her phone, backup card and spare key barely fit in the thing - she would have been better off with pockets.

But she had wanted to make an impression, her attempt at gaining Rafael’s attention coming back to bite her on the ass. It’s a relief when the car pulls up, though her concern for Rafael grows at his continued absence. The cabbie already has her account number, so he has no problem idling as they wait for the ADA to make his exit. 

Leaving the window cracked slightly so her face is visible from the street, she rubs at her arms briefly to soothe the goosebumps away. She watches the street out of the corner of her eye, chest growing tight with anxiety. It only loosens up when Rafael appears five minutes later, though it remains when she sees the state of him. 

His hair is mused, his suit jacket undone, tie loose - all terribly out of place on a man as put together as him. It takes him a second to spot her and she only rolls the window back up when it’s clear that he’s making his way to the car. When he slides into the seat next to her, he’s lost his jacket - which he hands to her silently before giving the driver her address. 

Wrapping herself in warmed wool, the scent of his cologne all around her, she tries desperately to read him. Words seem to build up in her throat, but none make it past her lips. It feels too soon, too loaded for her to say anything. Part of her is afraid that he’ll see it as her trying to psycho-analysis his issues, something that has made more than one person lash out at her. 

So, she opts to say nothing - simply observing him quietly for a few moments as the city passes around them. His hands fuss with his tie and cuffs absently as his jaw grows tighter. Her mind must still have trouble finding the line again, because her hand moves without her permission. It finds his shoulder, drawing his attention to her fully for the first time since he has gotten in the backseat. 

The look on his face is the most vulnerable she’s ever seen him and it only reinforces her silence. He obviously needs time to process the turn the night had taken and trying to talk through it would only hurt at the moment. The relief on his face when she says nothing proves her point, so she racks her brain for a way to reassure him - to let him know that he wasn’t as alone as he may feel. 

She gives him a smile that she hopes he recognizes as empathy rather than misconstrues as pity and lets her hand fall to his as she turns her head to watch the lights of New York pass them by. When his fingers slowly move to lace through hers, she squeezes his hand briefly. Stroking the back of his hand with her thumb, she hopes it’s enough that she’s simply there while he gathers himself. 

They spend the entire ride to her apartment in silence, her tumb never ceasing her soothing circles. As they pull up onto her street, she turns back to him - finally pulling her hand away as she moves to take his jacket back off. His hand reaches out to stop her, recapturing her hand lightly as the cab rolls to a stop. 

“Keep it. My mother raised me better than to let a lady walk out in the cold without a coat.”

“It’s ten feet, Rafa. I’m fairly sure I could bear it.”

Despite her protests, she makes no move to remove the coat or leave the car as she considers him. He gives her a tired smile, bringing her hand up to press a kiss to her knuckles which makes her smile in return on reflex. 

“It’s the least I can do, after the way the night ended. Not exactly what you signed up for, was it?”

“I came to be there for you. You owe me nothing, though I won’t turn my nose up at a jacket this nice. I’ll send it back to you tomorrow, papi.”

There it is again, tripping off her tongue like it refuses to be forgotten. Suddenly the air seems too thick to breath, catching in her throat at the look he gives her. In a bid to seem casual, she looks to the meter on the other side of the partition before turning back to him. 

“Probably best I get out now if you’re going to make it back home at a reasonable hour.”

Leaning into his space, she plants a painfully brief kiss on his cheek - trying to normalize her affection to cover up the effect the night has had on her. As she’s pulling away, a hand rises to rest on her jaw. Holding her close, Rafael meets her wide eyed gaze with a calculated one of his own. In a clearly measured move, he bumps his nose against hers lightly. It sends her heart through her chest, her breath hitching as she returns the gesture to draw them closer to each other. 

When his lips catch hers, it’s a slow press so sweet it makes her _ache_. He pulls away after a few of the longest and shortest seconds of her life and she chases him for a moment - drawing them into a brief second kiss that makes warmth bloom through every inch of her. They part, Rafael clearing his throat thickly as he pulls back.

“Gracias, Cinta, for everything.”

“Anytime, Rafa.”

Her voice is dazed and the world seems to be in technicolor as she finally steps out of the car. She sends one last look over her shoulder, at the cab idling protectively as she makes her way into her building. Making her way into the elevator up to her apartment, reality finally reasserts itself as the doors close. 

_“Pinche madre.”_

Falling against the support beam behind her, she can’t help but wonder where they go from here.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you guys like what I have so far!
> 
> I don't know exactly how long this story is gonna be, but I do see myself developing this story more.
> 
> Please let me know what you think in the comments! Any feedback is totally appreciated!


End file.
